


Home

by riseofthefallenone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Cats, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, and spontaneous explosions of feathers, major fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:48:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseofthefallenone/pseuds/riseofthefallenone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one expects an <em>angel</em> to catch Dean's cold, but it happens nonetheless. But is it really a cold for the both of them? And why is Sam looking so guilty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was a thank you gift to the ever wonderful [tielyanna](http://tielyanna.tumblr.com/).

The moment Castiel arrives home, he knows something is wrong. He assumes that it’s just a trick of the mind that his nose started itching when he walked through the doors. As an angel, his nose shouldn’t _itch_. It’s likely just a remnant sensation from when he was a human – or partially, when he had the stolen grace and wasn’t quite angel, but wasn’t quite human anymore either. Castiel passes it off as nothing more than that and continues on his way to finding the Winchesters in the winding hallways and massive rooms that make up the Bunker.

It isn’t too difficult a thing to do. The both of them are sitting in the library, elbow deep in old tombs. Dean has a box of tissues next to him and his greeting to Castiel is interrupted by a powerful sneeze and a long, rather disgusting sniffle. His nose is red, either from whatever sickness he has or because of irritation from how often he’s blown his nose.

He charms Castiel with an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry, Cas.” He sounds horribly congested and he blows his nose before continuing. “I’ve got a hell of a cold. Y’should watch out so y’don’t get it either.”

“I don’t _get_ sick, Dean.” Castiel reminds him with a sigh. He rounds the table to gently press his hand to Dean’s forehead. It doesn’t _feel_ hot, but that just means he’s not running a fever. “How long have you been feeling ill? Do you have any other symptoms?” If Dean asked, Castiel would happily use his still healing grace to get rid of it. But he knows not to do it unless asked to.

To his surprise, Sam glances up from his book in what Castiel has come to recognize as his _guilty_ look. He doesn’t say anything and he immediately looks back down, but Castiel is certain that it must mean something. Perhaps Sam is the reason Dean is sick? It’s possible that he was the carrier and brought it into the bunker. Or perhaps he was sick and it’s Dean’s turn now? In either case, Dean is the one sick now and Castiel must focus on him.

Or – at least – he would if his nose wasn’t suddenly very itchy again. It tingles momentarily and then Castiel is hit with the most unpleasant physical reaction he has ever had to endure. If Dean was going to give any answer to the questions posed, Castiel misses it entirely as his head nods sharply and he’s knocked back a step by a powerful sneeze. In the space between planes, he feels his wings spread in a hard, almost painful snap. The motion is so involuntary and out of Castiel’s control that he spares a moment of worry that they might break into this plane and harm Sam and Dean.

Thankfully, that doesn’t occur. Instead, Castiel opens his eyes again to a rain of feathers around him. They’re opalescent – no feather looking the same as the next in colour or shine. Without thinking, he holds his hand out for one of them to land in his palm. Angel feathers. Castiel has seen them several times in his life, but even for an angel they aren’t easy to come by. Sam seems aware of this as he immediately stands up and, without a word, starts gathering the feathers. They’ll be a valuable spell component one day.

“Bless you.” Dean laughs, his grin splitting his face. “So, angels don’t get sick, huh?”

* * *

 

This is _torture_. Castiel has been shedding feathers like humans shed skin cells. And it only ever happens when he sneezes – which is happening _much_ too often for his liking. His grace may still be healing, but there is no reason he should be like this. Angels don’t get _colds_. And they certainly don’t sit on a couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching television while waiting for the itchy nose and watery eyes to go away. The only bright side to this is that Dean is in the same position and he seems set on apparently ‘ _absentmindedly_ ’ massaging Castiel’s calves whenever he stretches them across Dean’s lap.

Those occasional touches and the company make being sick all worthwhile. They leave him feeling warm and content in the pit of his stomach – despite the congestion and agitation of his sinuses. These moments with Dean are few and far between in their busy hunter lives – and that’s not even taking into account Castiel’s own penchant for taking off when he there is business to be done with the angels.

Though Castiel does wonder why Dean always leaves the room after a feather explosion occurs. Sam is the one in charge of gathering them for safekeeping. There’s no need for Dean to move at all after Castiel sneezes. He knows for a fact that Dean isn’t allergic to _feathers_. To Castiel’s knowledge, cats are the only thing that Dean happens to be allergic to.

Everything clicks into place when Castiel decides to stretch his legs and take the latest batch of feathers to Sam. Dean has taken off – yet again – after the sneeze, but Sam has not yet arrived to gather the results of it. Castiel finds him in one of the less used storage rooms. At first he assumes that Sam is in there organizing or finding places for their abundance of angel feathers. He has never been happier to be wrong in his life.

Sam stares up at Castiel with wide, guilty eyes when he happens upon him. He’s kneeling on the floor behind some shelves and in Sam’s hand is the cause of all their frustrations. “Uh – Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Sam.” He stares at the purring ball of fur curled in the crook of Sam’s arm. Another cat is arching its back as it rubs against Sam’s leg, meowing loudly – presumably because it’s hungry. “You have cats.”

“Um – I can explain?” Sam’s grins, sheepish and guilty. “The shelter was having an event and these two had been there for a _year_. They’re old and no one wanted them and I couldn’t just _leave_ them there.” He looks down at the two cats and pets the one curling around him with soft mewls. “Are you going rat me out to Dean for adopting them?”

Castiel’s nose takes that moment to start itching again. Both cats, and Sam, jump in surprise at his sneeze and the resulting explosion of feathers. It has the added bonus of scattering the ones that Castiel had been holding. The realization seems to hit them both at the same time and he looks back at Sam with the same incredulous expression painted on his face.

“I didn’t know angels could be _allergic_ to things...”

He puts a hand over his mouth and nose, hoping that might help combat whatever it is about _cats_ that is irritating his still partially human vessel. “Neither did I.” At least now that he knows what’s wrong, Castiel can fix it.

Initially, he had refrained from using his healing grace to do such a thing if only because it is still _healing_. The last thing Castiel wants to do is tax it beyond its capabilities and have it take even longer to restore itself. And that’s not to mention the fact that despite the annoyance of the sneezing, he was enjoying his ‘ _sick_ ’ time with Dean. They don’t often get quite moments to themselves and, all sneezing aside, they got to lounge together while watching TV and Castiel didn’t want to give that up.

With a little concentration and a focused burst of grace, Castiel effectively cures himself of his apparently allergy. He _could_ have just waited until his grace was fully healed and it wouldn’t affect him anymore, but that means he would have to suffer the sneezing until then. As nice as it is to spend time with Dean, Castiel has his way out and he’s going to take it. The cats are simply a bonus.

Without preamble, he sits across from Sam and reaches out for the cat in his arms. “May I?”

“Oh – uh – yeah?” Sam hands the cat over.

Animals have always been one of Castiel’s weaknesses. He enjoys their company more than he enjoys that of most humans. They have a calming aura around them that sets him at peace in ways that he can’t even describe. And now that he isn’t going to sneeze because of them anymore, Castiel can befriend these cats too.

“So…” Sam interrupts Castiel’s thoughts as he picks up the other cat. “Will you – I mean, are you going to tell Dean about this?”

“Yes.” He nods slowly, more focused on the cat curling up in his lap then he is on his words. “But only because I’ll cure his allergy like I just did mine.”

Surprise colours Sam’s words. “Is _that_ what you did?”

Humming, Castiel nods again. “It seems the better option than to force you to give up these two.” He presses a finger under the cat’s chin to lift their head, making enough room to scratch gently. With a sly smile, he looks back up at Sam. “Don’t you think?”

* * *

 

In hindsight, Castiel should have knocked before he walked into Dean’s bedroom. But the door was open and, in his experience, that is usually a welcome invitation for entering. Today he is proven wrong yet again. And, yet again, he is pleasantly surprised by his error. Just as Sam did, Dean freezes in guilty surprise. But instead of a cat in his hands, Dean is holding a fistful of Castiel’s feathers. Next to him is a shoebox filled with even _more_ feathers and he seems to be in the middle of organizing them to all fit in the one container.

Dean slowly looks down at his hands, and then back up at Castiel. After a sniffle and the pinched look he gets when he’s fighting back a sneeze, he makes some attempt to excuse what’s going on. “It’s not what it looks like.” Though his excuse is rather poor.

“It looks like you’ve been hoarding my feathers.” Castiel crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “And you’ve been doing it in secret. You know, with the excess of feathers lately, you could have just _said_ that you wanted to keep some for yourself.”

“Yeah – well –” Dean has no good follow up and he shrugs. He won’t meet Castiel’s eyes as he hastily puts the feathers away and puts the lid on the box again. “What’s up, Cas?”

He puts his hand on Dean’s knee to draw his attention to him. “You don’t have a cold. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you have allergies.” To accentuate his point, he gestures at the fur on his clothing. “Sam adopted cats.”

Any guilt or pretense of embarrassment vanishes from Dean’s expression. “He did _what_?” He’s on his feet almost immediately. “I’m going to _skin_ that brat! He _knows_ that I’m –”

Castiel reaches out and grabs Dean’s hand before he can take another step. “I was allergic too, Dean.” He stands as well to be on level with Dean. “Curing allergies is child’s play to an angel – even one with weakened grace like mine. Would you like me to cure yours?”

The stubborn set to Dean’s jaw is a familiar one. It’s also endearing and he reaches up to trace it with his fingertips. “We know better than most what it’s like not to have a home. Sam has given one to those cats. Do you really want to be the one to tell them that they don’t have a home here?”

For a moment, guilt enters Dean’s eyes again and he looks away. He still hasn’t forgiven himself for sending Castiel away when Gadreel was inhabiting Sam’s body. After a moment of silence between them, the hard lines of his body ease with defeat. Dean only sighs and nods his head, a silent acceptance of the cure Castiel is offering. It’s likely, however, that Dean wasn’t expecting Castiel to use a kiss as the point of contact for his grace to do its job. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

The kiss is in thanks. It’s a thank you for allowing the cats to stay. It’s a thank you for not being _too_ annoyed with Sam for not saying anything about it for the last week. And, more than that, it’s a thank you for giving Castiel a home too.

 


End file.
